


Playing With Fire

by CrazyLabRat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, How is Wincest not a tag?, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Slow Burn, at some point, seriously?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-08 06:36:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1930380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyLabRat/pseuds/CrazyLabRat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was difficult, in that moment, to reconcile the child Sam had been to the man he was becoming. His shoulders were already broader than mine, and he was big.  Not that I was small by any stretch of the imagination, mind you. But Sam was just gigantic… freakishly so. Muscled thighs pinned my legs and huge hot palms handcuffed my wrists above my head, and I remember thinking, for the very first time… </p><p>I’m going to hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fanning The Flames

A/N: This is my second attempt at this fandom, but my first published attempt. I’m not sure where the story is going to take me. I wrote this in about an hour and a half and am just going to self edit and publish. No outline. And for me, that’s huge ‘cause I have a tendency to over-think and over edit. 

Happy reading!

Oh, and if you like, please review!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Sam was seventeen the first time he actually managed to pin me to the ground. 

It was a breezy day out in the Nevada desert and I will always remember the way the dust and sand swirled around behind Sam’s head. 

The way his too long hair curled around his cheeks to frame his suddenly too adult features. 

The way he smiled in victory, but not smirking or gloating… Just, quietly happy.

It was difficult, in that moment, to reconcile the child Sam had been to the man he was becoming. His shoulders were already broader than mine, and he was big. Not that I was small by any stretch of the imagination, mind you. But Sam was just gigantic… freakishly so. Muscled thighs pinned my legs and huge hot palms handcuffed my wrists above my head, and I remember thinking, for the very first time… 

I’m going to hell.

My wrists burned where he held them and sweat pooled slightly on my chest, my tee shirt sticking uncomfortably in odd places here and there. And I couldn’t have cared less…

Because Sammy… Sam now, he was fucking beautiful. 

When had that happened?

And my chest swelled with pride even as another kind of heat altogether gathered and coiled deliciously in the pit of my stomach, and lower still. 

His body shifted and he was flush against me, from sternum to hips and suddenly my veins were on fire. And again, I knew that I was going to hell. And I totally deserved it. Because my chest felt tight and my palms were sweating and as he leaned closer, ducking his head to use the crook of his elbow to wipe the sweat from his brow, all I wanted was for him to kiss me. 

Hot, damp breath puffed against my neck and my body canted up slightly in want. 

It was only by some miracle that it could also be interpreted as resistance to the situation. I’ve never been one to just give in, after all. So, true to form, my struggles renewed with vigor, but he only laughed. His voice was low now. Deep and rumbling and rich in the most sensual way… and it was echoing through every cell in my body. It was so hard to keep my throat from voicing my arousal. And speaking of hard…

“Are you going to admit defeat?”

I laughed, I couldn’t help it. I’m going insane, and to hell… and everywhere in between them. 

“I’m not the one who’s going down today, baby boy.”

This thing… this desire… I don’t know where it’s coming from but it doesn’t feel wrong. And it should. Fuck, but it really should. The hold on my wrists lessens just the tiniest bit as he backs off a little to grin down at me. I pulled and startled him just enough to get my right leg free. I brought it up and hooked it around the front of his waist, then pulled it back down with all of my might. In a flash, Sam was flat on his back, and I was the one pinning him to the dust and the dirt. 

It wasn’t until I stopped laughing again that I realized our position and really took stock of things. Sam was stretched out beneath me, not even bothering to struggle. And the whole thing was so surreal, because I was holding him down with purpose. My hands clenching and unclenching fiercely as my breathing sped up… I was perched in between his thighs; hips pressed tight and I’m absolutely mesmerized by the way the late afternoon sun danced through the hair splayed around his head like a halo.

If ever there was such a thing as angels, then they were made from Sammy’s image… No joke.

But it was the way he looked up at me in that moment that caused my throat to close. He had his eyes half closed, and looked for all the world like he was absolutely content… at peace, right where he was. And later on, when I’m alone in the shower, I remember this moment with crystal clarity. Seven years go by afterwards… But it never leaves me. It never goes away. The long line of his throat as his head lolls lazily to the left. Like he trusts me so completely… like he knows he’ll always be safe right here, with me. 

It pulled at something inside me, pulled and twisted and yanked until my heart was pounding so hard that all I could hear was the blood thrumming in my ears.

“Training’s over for today, Sam… time for lunch.”

In my minds eye things ended with a much more interesting climax than that. There, underneath the hot spray I allowed myself to imagine what it would be like to kiss him, to touch him. To be lying with him like that without the training... without the need to be violent or aggressive… To know what it feels like to just hold him… to touch him until he’s panting and gasping in whole new ways, and to make him crave my hands, my lips and my tongue.

…To be gentle. 

I came right then, without warning, and it was so powerful that my legs were trembling for some time afterwards. And as I watched the remnants of this first act of transgression swirl down the rusted opening of the shower drain, I sighed. I knew I should feel some sort of remorse, or perhaps regret… or even better, shame. But none of those were rising in my stomach. And it took me a very long time to figure out why that was.


	2. Drowning In Green

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one is from Sam's POV. Again, no idea where this is taking me. But I'm just going to write and post and see what happens. It's a personal challenge for myself. 
> 
> As always, if you like it, let me know. 
> 
> And I'm open to suggestions! I make no promises but my muses do like to tinker with many different ideas. ^.^
> 
> Happy Reading!

Dean was twenty two, when I finally saw him cry. 

For the first time in my whole life, and it… hurt. 

But it should hurt. I’m leaving him, and it should hurt me too… should hurt me more, even. I’m leaving both of them, sure. But dad hasn’t ever really been there. Not for me. 

But Dean… he’s always been with me. 

Every step of the way, he was by my side or holding my hand, dragging me forward. Always so strong and fierce and just fucking amazing... He’s never been weak. 

No… not my Dean.

Never been the sort to throw tantrums like a child or get scared or upset. He always took everything without complaint, always fixed every problem I ever had. And he never even expected a thank you in return. ‘Because that’s what big brothers do’ he’d say. Like that was the answer to everything. But he can’t fix things this time. 

He can’t fix me.

Because I’m not broken, but I’m sure as hell not normal… but then again, who in my situation would be? I don’t want this life. I don’t want to live like I might die every single day. I want what every other person on the planet had. I want normal. 

But standing there at the bus station, in the dark, while he leaned against the impala with his head bowed, I couldn’t help but think I was doing something far worse than just leaving. 

I was breaking him.

And you know what makes it even more fucked up?

All I could think about in that moment, as the tears on his lashes glimmered under the streetlights, was how fucking pretty he was. 

It hadn’t really occurred to me until right at that moment how beautiful his eyes were, or how perfect the curve of his lips was even as it disappeared between his teeth.

He wasn’t crying rivers or anything, and I couldn’t even see any trails down his cheeks but his damp lashes and red eyes told the story, just the same. 

I wanted to reach out to him. To curl my arms around him and breath in the scent of leather, grease, and old spice. I wanted to take him with me. I wanted to never let him go. 

“Come with me…”

He turned his back to me and braced his palms on the hood of the car. I lifted my hand, inches away from his shoulder, but I let it curl into a fist and fall away as he shook his head.

“I get it, Sammy. You weren’t meant for this. But… it’s all I know. Without you, it’s the only thing left…”

He turned to face me again, after he took a long deep breath. And then he held out his hand. I knocked it away, because screw that. I wasn’t going to shake his hand like this was goodbye. I wasn’t going to pretend that this didn’t hurt so fucking much either. 

I reached for him and tugged him harshly into my chest. My nose was buried in his hair, and my fingers dug into the soft leather of his favorite jacket, and we just stood like that for a minute. 

It was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do. Let him go. 

But I did it. 

And it’s the biggest regret I’ll ever have. 

That night hasn’t left me. I don’t think it ever will. It’s been six years and he’s still so fucking beautiful. Sure he’s physically attractive, I’ve always known that. Who wouldn’t? And with the way he gets laid left and right, I’m pretty sure the whole world thinks so too. But he has this idea of who he thinks he is… and he just doesn’t understand how breathtaking and earth shattering and words-that-haven’t-even-been-invented-yet he is. I think about it all the time. More than I should. I thought about it for the first full year at school. I thought about it on the night he came back. 

I’ve dreamt about it too.

When I was younger, my dreams were almost always about monsters or about him. And it hasn’t changed now that I’m older. Only the context has. In my dreams he used to save me. He used to be my superman. Or sometimes I saved him, and he’d tell me how I wasn’t a kid anymore, that he was proud of me. But this new dream started… this dream where he cried and instead of leaving, I cupped his face… I held him tight and said that I’d never ever go...That I’d always need him. 

And when I woke up I was always aroused. For reasons I couldn’t really explain. There wasn’t anything even remotely sexual about the dreams… but every single time, I was revved up like nothing else. And when I reached down and took myself in hand, curling my fingers under my boxers and around the heat throbbing between my legs, all I could imagine was those glistening green eyes and the way his brows pulled down.

And I’m drowning…

I’d imagine brushing away those tears with my fingertips and then tasting them on my tongue. I’d imagine pressing him down on the hood of the impala and sucking the skin of his neck between my teeth, or weaving my hands into his hair and kissing the breath right out of him… stealing every bit of it. 

…Because I can’t breathe either.

I should feel bad or something about it, I’m sure. Any normal person would. But as I’ve already stated, as much as I want to be, I’m not normal. I’ll never be normal. 

And as much as I think about that night, I’ll never be able to live with myself if I ever do that to him again.

I’d die first.


	3. Happy The Hard Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dug the prompt that D gave me, and as I ran with it, it sort of grew and changed all on it's own. I'm having a great deal of fun with this!

Sammy was nineteen when I drove out to Stanford. 

He never knew. 

He never will.

I sat in the impala for hours across from the quad, waiting for even just a glimpse of him. And when I did finally spot that shaggy mop of his, I wasn’t surprised to see it surrounded by so many others. Sammy always was a natural at drawing people closer to him. But there was one in particular that caught my eye… a little blond thing, hot for sure. And when he leaned down and kissed her my heart swelled and sank all at once. 

I could see why he liked her… Why she fit with him, and that made this a little easier. He’s happy here. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted for him. She’s everything I’m not. The exact opposite of me and everything I represent. 

She was perfect. 

I could see it now. Sammy pulling up to a little house with a small white picket fence, and this girl wobbling out to meet him… Looking sweet and happy with a full round belly. 

She could give him everything he wanted… everything he needed. 

And that would have to be enough. 

I promised myself a long time ago that he’d get everything he deserved. And with me out of the picture, he was going to get it. 

He disappeared from view as he ambled into a building nearby, probably off to class early... the geek. I sighed and peeled my fingers away from the steering wheel. Massaging one hand and then the other to relieve the ache they’d mysteriously developed. 

“Why are you staring at my boyfriend?”

I damn near had a heart attack with a voice so close from out of nowhere reaching my ears. As it was, I jumped enough to just barely miss hitting my head on the roof. Leaning close to my open window was that pretty little blond. 

She was giving me the look all women get sometimes, like I was a creepy stalker asshole. 

To be fair, I was certainly acting like one. 

“I wasn’t staring…”

She tilted her head with a grin and arched an accusing brow.

“Anyone ever tell you that you suck at lying?”

There was something about her attitude, her demeanor that I found creepily familiar. But I couldn’t put my finger on it. I did laugh a bit though. 

“Pretty cocky for someone who has no idea what she’s talking about.”

And then she was laughing at me while she stepped back, shifted her weight to her left leg and folded her arms across her chest.

“The name’s Jess. And I know exactly what I’m talking about. Listen, I don’t know your deal and I don’t really care. Just don’t fuck with Sam. He’s going through way too much crap anyway. He doesn’t need any more shit shoveled on top of it. So whatever you’re thinking of saying or doing to fuck with him, don’t. I know trouble when I see it… and it’s plastered all over your face.”

And it hit me like a vampire kick to the gut. 

She reminded me of… well, me. 

A smaller, super blond, chick version of me… 

And something about that made me ridiculously happy. 

…As fucked up as that is. 

Freud would probably have a fucking field day with me.

“You don’t have anything to worry about, Jess. Not even planning on talking to him. I just wanted… He’s, he’s okay right?”

Something in my tone or my face must have sent across the right message, because her whole body shifted and she was that sweet disarming girl again.

“He’s getting there. It was hard for him at first. Wouldn’t talk to most of us, you know? But he’s opening up, little by little. Are you who I think you are?”

My whole body tensed as I nodded once, quickly. 

“Why don’t you come over and say hi, then?”

I shrugged and played with the amulet around my neck.

“He doesn’t want to see me. We didn’t part ways on the best of terms if you know what I mean.”

She shrugged a shoulder at me and dropped her arms. 

“You won’t know if you don’t try. Besides, he’s always talking about you… He misses you a lot. I can tell.”

I nodded, but it was for my benefit, not hers... because that was good to know. 

“I miss him too. Hey, do me a favor will you? Don’t tell him I was here. I don’t know how he’d take it and I’d just rather avoid any chick drama if possible.”

I started up the car and looked over to her as she nodded.

“If that’s what you really want. No problem.”

I scrubbed a hand through my hair and smiled at her, mumbling a quick ‘thanks’.

She started to back away with a short wave.

“It was good to meet the man behind the legend. He talks about you like you’re some sort of superhero.”

I frowned at her as she turned away slightly.

“What does that mean?”

But she just smiled and shook her head.

“I hope to meet you for real sometime... later Dean.”

And then she was gone. 

I idled for another ten minutes before snapping out of it and driving away.

If I have to give Sammy to someone, well, I think I could handle it… if it’s her. 

It’s fine so long as he’s happy. 

Everything’s fine.


	4. Worth The Wait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been traveling everywhere, and that's my only excuse for why this has taken forever to post... Writing anything in an airport is just plain awkward to me for some reason. *Chuckles* I do hope that you all like this installment though. 
> 
> As always... If you like it, let me know!

Dean’s twenty seven when I listen to him jerk off in the next bed.

It’s not even five feet away from mine.

I hold my breath at first, because I’m terrified he can hear me... irrationally so. Because if he thought I was awake, he wouldn’t be making those grunts and sighs. He wouldn’t be working his hand over himself so languorously, taking his time. 

He wouldn’t be touching himself at all.

There’s no way that he could know that I’ve been waiting for it. That I knew he’d fall into old habits sooner or later. 

He used to wait for me to fall asleep all the time when we were younger.

A fact I realized later.

To be fair, I hadn’t been intending to see it that first time. It happened so many years ago now, but the memory was still crystal clear in my mind. 

I’d been asleep, when a soft keening moan woke me. When I opened my eyes, I’d been confused. Unsure of what had disturbed my slumber. It was dark, and I couldn’t see any more of him then the mere outline of his body, but that had been okay. Because the noises he made were soft, but not muffled. That, coupled with the sound of slick skin sliding under cotton sheets was more than descriptive enough for me. 

I’d been sixteen, so of course I was hard as fucking diamonds in seconds. 

But at the time, I hadn’t realized it was because of Dean himself. I’d never actually seen or heard someone else in the throes of sexual satisfaction before. And I listened intently, because Dean sounded so different in this than at any other time. 

I didn’t move to relieve the throbbing pressure between my legs back then, just like I had no intention of doing so now. For fear, for knowing, that I’d be caught, and even worse, that he’d stop. So I ignored it as best I could. But I allowed my eyes to open slightly, to peer over at him from beneath my lashes.

I couldn’t risk opening them any further than that. There was a small stream of light floating through the broken shades over the window that rested in the wall behind Dean’s bed... probably from a streetlight or something. It didn’t matter though. What did matter was it meant that I could see him fairly well. It also meant that if my eyes were open and he happened to look over, he’d know exactly what I was doing. So I forced my breathing to a slow and even pace… And I watched him.

He’s on his back, legs spread wide beneath the thin flimsy sheet shielding my eyes from his body. It hid his frame, true… but it’s not capable of obscuring his activities. His eyes were closed and his mouth was open, but not slack. Lips moving soundlessly with clear purpose, like they wanted to be speaking… were forming the words and everything. But none escaped them. I had no idea what he would be saying if I weren’t here, but I’ve always been curious to know. His sighs and moans don’t stop, but they’re so light, so soft, I have to concentrate to hear them at all. 

His arm moves faster suddenly, drawing my gaze down. The sheet covering his hips slides down and away with the severity of the motion of his fist. Farther and farther it falls, just enough to reveal all of him down to the middle of his thighs, and my brain short circuited for a moment. That wide calloused palm hides most of his length with its continuous strokes. But the tip, flushed red and glistening with drop after drop of precome… it was a like a homing beacon. 

I couldn’t have pulled my eyes away if the devil himself appeared before me.

I wanted to moan, I wanted to lick my suddenly too dry lips, I wanted to touch my own cock so desperately. I wanted to join my own noises with his… 

To hear what we’d sound like together. 

Hips were rising to meet his hand now, muscles cording in his neck while he bit down on his lips, trying his very best to be quiet even now. 

He was close. 

My throat rumbled against my will, but thankfully I’d caught it in time. It hadn’t made a real sound… but it had been a very near thing.

And not a minute later I had to hold my breath entirely for fear that I would actually moan. 

Ribbons of white erupted from him in streaks, spiraling out in a high arc, landing all over his chest and even hitting just under his chin. I knew without looking that his eyes were wide, like the pleasure that surged through him was totally welcomed but a complete surprise. It happened every time he came as far as I could tell. I’d seen that before... many times. 

But actually watching him come? 

Watching the undeniable proof of his arousal and resulting climax splatter all over him in wave after stuttering wave of bliss?

That was a very new sight indeed.

One I’d be reliving over and over and over again within the course of the next few days, in the privacy of the dingy shower in the next room.

One that would cause me to get hard at random, with the memory fresh and persistent for weeks to come… Pun totally intended. 

His arched back, which had frozen high off of the bed in his release, suddenly fell back down with a light thump, and his breathing was ragged and sharp in the quiet of the room. 

He didn’t move for a long time after that. Lazing about and enjoying the last few vestiges of the sparks left pulsing in his veins from his orgasm. It was such a Dean thing, to revel in it afterwards like that.

I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of his breathing even out and the whisper of his boxers being pulled back up. Listened while he stood and pulled his shirt off before heading into the bathroom, as quietly as possible… But it wasn’t until I heard the tap running that I finally let out the small sigh I’d been holding… It’s been over six months since we’ve been back on the road together and he hadn’t done this in all of that time. No… He’d been careful to keep it in the shower. 

And I couldn’t figure out why. 

Perhaps it had been out of respect? Or that he just hadn’t gotten horny enough to dare? Perhaps. 

It had been late when we pulled into the tiny dive motel earlier, and all of the bars in the area had been long since closed. No chance for him to find some nubile body to vent his physical frustrations on, this night. 

Whatever the cause, I decided to shelf it for the evening. We had to interview people in the morning, and he’d notice if I was tired. I did my best to lie still when he came back out and crawled under his sheets. Even though I knew he wouldn’t as much as glance in my direction. I listened to him getting comfortable again while my limbs grew heavy and I finally, finally drifted off to sleep. 

When I dreamed, I dreamed of pools of green. 

I dreamed of calloused hands and quiet sighs.

I dreamed of glistening lashes and the comforting rumble of the impala. 

Finally, those nightmares… 

The ones of fire, of pain… of Jess… 

They stopped.


	5. Flickers Of Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this in about ten minutes. I have to go to work and stayed up all night for no discernible reason. And this, of course, is when inspiration strikes. I'm still typing and I *had* about five minutes to shower, but now I'm already late. Oh well. Any errors will be dealt with later.
> 
> I hope you lovelies enjoy...
> 
> If you like it, let me know!

Sam is twenty four when I realize that these feelings will never go away.

It’s not like the thought itself was a new one. It was just the first time that I figuratively sat down and admitted it to myself. 

I won’t lie, I am the fucking king of denial. 

Oh yes, and how I rule.

I’d told myself for years that this… thing… will fade. This need, this desperation, this hunger… it will ebb like the ocean tide. And eventually the pull will subside. But it’s been too long, and I love the bastard too much. It’s getting harder to hide it. And not just in the physical sense…

Though there is that, too. 

I watch him sleep and jerk off to it, for fuck’s sake. 

And what’s worse? I don’t even feel guilty about it. 

That’s sort of terrifying. 

I watch the rise and fall of his chest, and the way his hair rests around his face. And I can’t help myself. No amount of girls will satisfy this drive, this fucking itch. There isn’t any woman or vice that can distract or deter it. What do you do when faced with that sort of epiphany, anyways? 

Me? I just blinked the water out of my eyes and watched the never ending spray carry the shampoo out of my hair and down the drain.  


But what else could I do, really?

I couldn’t ignore it anymore than I could ignore Sam...

I couldn’t deny it anymore than I could deny that the sky was blue. Not now that my eyes were finally open.

What else was there to do, anyhow?

There certainly wasn’t any spell or whatever to stop it. I checked…

Often.

So in the end, I accepted it. 

I let the realization sit in the pit of my stomach and waited for the nausea... waited for the guilt that would never rise within my gut. 

It was still a wonder to me that it never came.

But logically… I know I’ve always loved Sammy, and I could never be ashamed of that. I just don’t have it in me to even try. 

So I settled my musings with a conscious decision. 

I would never do anything unless I saw some sign, had some inkling that he suffered too… Suffered from this affliction… That we suffered together. 

But if there was something there… anything at all within him, all bets were off.

I’ve always been an all or nothing kind of guy. And this was the best possible way to settle things in my mind. 

And it worked, for a time…

For almost a year, actually.

It worked until the flames started licking at the skin of my fingertips… until I could feel the heat swelling against me and burning me to ash and dust… until the fires fanned so hot around me I felt I was drowning within them.

And I couldn’t sit passively and wait anymore. 

But what to do? 

It wasn’t like I could just drop it out there and see what he said.

It wasn’t like the bastard had a diary I could read.

Though he was such a girl sometimes, I wouldn’t have been surprised. 

And if he did have one, then it was far better hidden on that laptop than even my porn collection... Better than Jimmy Hoffa even. 

I checked that, too.

But I digress.

So where was I?

Oh, right… What to do.

That part actually came on easier than I thought it would. 

I‘d stepped out of the bathroom humming ‘Master Of Puppets’ under my breath and pulled on my sweats almost dropping my towel, when it hit me.

What do I do with any chick I catch my eye on?

One who doesn’t even realize she digs me, yet?

I seduce her. 

…Duh.

And I felt like an idiot because it was such an obvious answer. There hasn’t been a single female alive who could resist me with my charm turned up to maximum. And there were plenty of men who tried to engage me all the time.

So clearly I’m universally hot. If he’s even a little inclined, it shouldn’t be that hard to dig out of him, right?

I’m totally going to hell.

I dropped the towel on the floor and smiled as I threw myself upon the bed. 

This would have to be done right. It would have to be done so carefully that there’s no way Sammy could pick up on it... 

No screw ups. 

I’d have to be something I’ve never once been in my entire life.

I’ve never even been capable…

I’d have to be subtle.


	6. Falling Farther Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another all-nighter for absolutely no reason... But my muses are currently happy. 
> 
> I certainly hope you lovely duckies are, too.
> 
> And remember...
> 
> Reviews feed the muses, and keep them running strong!

Dean is twenty nine when he starts touching me.

It’s not something I noticed right away because we touch each other all the time. Thousands of tiny inconsequential brushes of fingertips over an elbow, on a shoulder blade, on the small of a back… these happened every day. 

But this… this was different.

His fingers lingered. Not by much. Not by more than the blink of an eye, or a half of a breath… but I felt it. I noticed. Because when it comes to Dean, I always notice.

But just because I notice doesn’t mean I know the cause. I didn’t understand it. And Dean, he didn’t even seem to register it. It didn’t seem to him like there was anything weird about it at all. But it kept happening. 

For weeks, the touches, gentle and warm continued… progressed. But his eyes held nothing unusual. His smile was always the same. They lasted a bit longer. The pressure varied. But…

Nothing else has changed. 

He was the same old Dean, and that… that made it so much worse. 

The dreams changed, though.

There was still the mossy green framed by glittering lashes… still of the comforting rumble of the impala. But now, there were warm palms on the back of my neck… Now there was a hug, long lasting and full of emotion, and heated breath ghosting over my collarbone. 

Now when I woke up hard, I knew why. 

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t figure out what had sparked this change. I couldn’t remember a specific day or event. There was no new danger. There was no need for physical reassurance that I was still alive. I couldn’t even remember exactly when it started. I just remember when I’d noticed. 

We’d been in some hole in the wall motel in, I kid you not, Frackville Pennsylvania. There was a possible woman in white, a rash of middle-aged men vanishing. 

I’d been in the middle of changing my shirt when I had suggested the cause, which I’d been right about, by the way. And when I showed the newspaper article of the woman who’d killed her son and then herself, Dean had smiled and rested a warm hand on my back… right in between my shoulder blades. His smile was all pride as he’d said ‘Nice job, Sammy. Let’s go and gank this chick.’ 

My heart swelled with more than just pride. And his hand, it didn’t just pull away… It stayed there for another beat, before it slid down along my spine. Delicious, agonizing heat trailed down, down, down, to the waistband of my jeans, leaving gooseflesh in its wake… and I was suddenly half hard. 

Of all of the ways that we’d ever touched each other, of all of the times that Dean has ever touched me… Not once has it ever felt like that. 

It was pure luck, I decided, that he didn’t even look back when he walked away. I pulled my shirt on and followed him out the door, adjusting myself to hide the evidence as I went.

Ever since then, I’ve been thinking about the lines that we cross for the people that we care about. 

And I’ve been thinking about the lines that I would cross for Dean. The lines I have crossed, the ones that have long since been left behind. 

I thought about Emily Rose and the lines she crossed when she couldn’t handle her husband’s infidelity. I thought about the pain she must have felt when she realized the horror of what she’d done.

I thought about how I could never hurt Dean like that. And how love can be twisted and corrupted when people were pushed too far by the one person they can’t live without. 

I thought about all of the lines that I will cross for Dean. 

Because there isn’t one that I wouldn’t step over for him... none that I would ever regret… And I’d never be able to hurt him. That much I knew. No matter what he did, no matter what he does… He’s the only thing I ever got to take with me wherever we moved. The only thing I’ve ever had that’s worth anything. 

He’s the only thing I can’t afford to lose. 

But this energy that I feel… it’s building, and the tension is rising.

And I’m going to end up doing something fucking stupid. 

I can feel it. 

Because the more he touches me, the longer his fingers press against the bare skin of my forearm, the more I want to lean into it. The more I want to touch him back. 

But his touches are only meant to be brotherly… to be affectionate on a familial level.

My body interprets it in another way entirely, and it’s trying to convince my brain that I should try. 

That I should pull him into a hug and burry my face into the crook of his neck… the spot where his neck and shoulder meet. The spot that I’d always thought of as mine.

I remember wanting his warmth when I was younger. Whenever I was lonely, or scared… whenever a nightmare struck. It was my safe place. What’s scary is that I still think of him that way. But it’s so much more than that now. 

That’s the worst part of growing up… 

Everything just gets complicated, and the complications never stop piling up. 

The thing is, logically… there’s no way someone couldn’t see this thing I have coming. When you spend your entire childhood, your entire life with one person as your everything, the center of your whole world… it would be impossible not to love them. But he’s the only person who knows all of me. Knows everything there is to know and he never looks away. He’s never disgusted, even when any sane person would be. 

It’s not always a bad thing when someone knows the darkest parts of you… It took me years to come to terms with that. And he’s always known. 

I fall a little farther each day. 

It’s not something I can have him chase away… I can’t just have him turn on a light to ward off the shadows it makes. And I’m too old to climb into his bed and seek his arms for comfort. Not to mention the desire that just the thought of it evokes.

I’ve been stuttering and stumbling like a fifteen year old for weeks now. Feeling clumsy and fumbling to speak, blushing and hiding my face from view. He’s been wearing only boxers around the hotel room, saying he’s too hot. And it is… hot. 

It doesn’t help that the ac is busted and it’s one hundred and seven degrees in a no name town just south of Tucson Arizona. 

He’s eating a burger at the tiny desk in the corner, next to the bed I currently occupy. And we’re looking for a new case. Bobby didn’t have anything and we just finished a routine salt and burn. It was nice not having anything to rush off to for the moment, though. I was mostly looking out of habit anyway. 

Dean was gloating over his quick thinking while he watched the television. I set my computer down and laughed, but let him crow his victory. A smudge of ketchup caught on the corner of his mouth and I moved without thinking. 

It was like I had no control. 

One minute I was still laughing, and the next I was sweeping the ketchup off of him and pulling my fingers across my tongue. I turned away and stared at the television, still chuckling. I saw him freeze out of the corner of my eye. And in my peripheral, I watched him while I made some asinine comment that meant nothing. Desperate to pretend things were normal. That what I did, didn’t mean anything. That he’d accept it and move on. But he was still frozen in place a moment later. I held my breath as I reclined, resting my back against the wall behind me. 

It wasn’t until he finally moved, pointing a finger and mocking whatever show was on, that I allowed myself to breathe. 

But still, I didn't relax until he rested a hand on my shoulder for a full heartbeat before standing and making his way to the other bed.

I laid down in the dark, and stared at the ceiling for a long time afterwards. 

And my throat burned…

Hours later, I still tasted ketchup and salt on my tongue.

Just how much farther can I possibly fall after tonight?


	7. All Over Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this has taken a while, but prepping for a new semester has left me running ragged. Any and all errors are mine and will be fixed later when I actually have the time. For now, I'm just posting and rolling with it.

Sam is twenty five when I pin him to a bed.

I haven’t physically pinned him to anything in years. The freak is just too big for that, on most days... but, not today.

It’s been a week since what I’ve privately dubbed ‘the almost’ incident, because that’s what it was… an ‘almost’ moment. His fingertips ghosting, barely there, over the corner of my mouth… but they didn’t stop there. It wasn’t just wishful thinking on my part. I hadn’t just imagined it… They’d played over my bottom lip as he pulled them away. And it was almost… something.

It was almost too far…

It was almost far enough.

And I wanted to pull those fingers back. I wanted to suck them into my mouth, to curl my tongue over each pad, to taste them. The feeling was so strong that it took me almost a full minute to pull myself out of it and back into reality. Back to the motel room, and into myself.

I tried for the rest of the night to quantify that moment… But I just couldn’t. Because it wasn’t really anything, was it?

I’d been touching him… so much. Much more than I had in years…

Touching his shoulder or his elbow… the small of his back or his hip…

Anywhere I could, whenever the opportunity presented itself.

And through it all, he said nothing. He did nothing. His smile never wavered and his steps never faltered. It was absolutely frustrating. And I found myself second guessing this method time and time again. Thinking maybe it was too subtle. Perhaps I should choose an entirely different approach…

But then it hit me. Like a lightning bolt. Sammy wasn’t doing anything. He wasn’t protesting or pulling away. He wasn’t asking me what I was doing or why. He was accepting it. 

And after that realization hit, I started paying closer attention.

And the more I touched him and watched him, the more I began to notice, to see.

His whole body shifts towards me. It’s so small a thing that it doesn’t really register at first. And it doesn’t register because he’s almost always facing me anyways. But when he’s buried in his laptop or focusing on someone else and I drop a casual hand onto his shoulder blade, he turns. Turns his whole body until I’m faced with the long line of his frame leaning back, stretched out lazily in his chair... Turns until his eyes are the only thing I could possibly see… Turns and it feels like I’m the only thing in the whole god damned universe…

But it wasn’t until tonight that the full meaning of that dawned on me.

Researching a possible haunting on the outskirts of Portland, we were once again holed up in a crappy motel room and it felt like home. I’m two beers in; Sammy was still nursing his first when he sat back with a satisfied grin.

“This is definitely our kind of weird, Dean. Three people missing in two weeks. Teenagers sneaking into an old abandoned house on some dare or another over the past year all swear they’ve seen a weeping woman. And get this, every time she appears, someone goes missing.”

I walked up behind him to read the articles still up on the screen and smiled as I ruffled his hair. I didn’t pull my hand away as quickly as anyone else might. But I was feeling warm and happy and his girly locks felt nice against my fingers. So I left them there for another moment. But in that moment he swiveled the chair to face me. His hands rested on the arms and his body seemed relaxed, but his eyes were searing into me… burning right through me.

“That’s my boy. Good work, Sammy.”

I waited for his token protest at the nickname, but none was forthcoming. His eyes slipped closed as my fingers curled gently and dragged across his scalp, and my heart stuttered.

He stayed that way for a moment longer, his long limbs relaxed and on display like an offering. And I blinked.

Was it an offering?

I dragged my hand away regretfully. But I couldn’t afford to leave it there. It was a delicate balance that I had to maintain here. The warmth in my belly spread and a smirk flitted over my features as I ducked behind him and pulled him into a headlock. He used the chair to turn himself out of my hold and stood with a grin of his own. A scuffle ensued and it was like we were young again, wrestling and fighting for fun. Not for the job… Not for training. 

Just for us.

There were hands everywhere and huffed laughter filling the air alongside muffled grunts and harsh pulls of breath. And my blood was pounding, my heart thudding hard beneath my ribs. Elbows knocking lightly into ribs and fingers digging under armpits to shock each other into submission... They were like every happy memory we’ve ever shared all rolled into one, into this moment.

Pillows went flying and the lamp on the nightstand wobbled precariously but neither of us paid it any mind. Too busy wrapped up in each other, around each other, to give a shit.  
I always was the better grappler, and this time was no different. I had Sammy flat on his back, diagonally over the bed closest to the window. I had my legs twined around his, and a foot hooked over each of his ankles… His wrists locked together in my left hand while my right forearm rested just under his chin. But we were both grinning broadly.

The skin over my lower abs burned pleasantly where it pressed against his, our shirts had gotten tugged up during the struggle.

I realized too late exactly where we were and what we were doing, but even then it was hard to bring myself to really care.

And Sam? He just tilted his head back against the mattress and closed his eyes… like he did all those years ago, in the same exact way. One hundred percent at ease, and content, and safe… And the picture he made had me easing my arm away from his throat. Long limbs were still and lax, like he had no intention of moving them, and he wore a small smile which only just barely tugged at the corners of his lips. The flesh of his cheek was so soft under my thumb that it startled me physically. I jolted and moved to pull my hand away when I looked down into half lidded hazel eyes, and swallowed thickly. 

The way he gazed at me made something in my gut kick. And it pulled me off of him with a force that shocked me, like a whip snapping back. 

Sammy just smiled lazily and arched to pull a kink out of his back as he kicked off his shoes. 

"Now that we've destroyed the place, it might be time to get some shut eye. I'm beat."

That's what he'd said, but an hour later, in the darkness, while I'd been feigning sleep and waiting for him to finally pass out too, I heard something I haven't heard since he'd stopped having wet dreams on a regular basis...

I heard Sam jacking off. 

Never mind that I'd been doing it regularly in the same room while he slept for years... This was so much better than that, and yet ridiculously, conversely, it was so much worse.

Sam, he's never been that bold on purpose. Not once. But he's doing it now. And I'd be a lying sonofabitch if I said it didn't crank my libido like gasoline to a fire.

He makes these whining sounds... These tiny little noises that he tries to choke down, but can't quite suffocate. And he's making the flimsiest attempt at being quiet that I've ever heard. Sure he's not out right moaning and he's choking off pants and sighs but he's got nothing to buffer himself. No other sound to hide behind. No running water or crackling ancient tv. And I might be dying. Because the sheets are rustling with every pull and he's tossing his head back and forth on the pillow and his breathing is so ragged that it's actually louder than the stutter-kick-thud of the pounding heartbeat in my ears. 

And I found myself cursing every god I could ever remember hearing the name of, for the fact that I was on my side with my back to him. 

I wanted so desperately to watch. 

The only solace I found was that if I did it slowly, I found I could palm myself with my left hand without making any noise or sign of movement of my own. Not that I thought he could hear me over his own enthusiasm, but Murphy's law was a very real thing. And the last thing I needed to deal with was a discussion on why I was rubbing one out to the tune of Sammy's moans less than five feet away. 

Even with that thought flitting around in my brain, my hand still carefully slipped into my boxers and squeezed. 

It was probably the most sexually exciting thing I'd ever done to date. And that's including that time with the twins. For someone who's done pretty much everything in the book, that might be a sad fact, indeed. But it wasn't any less true. One tiny squeeze and I'm already almost there. His noises rose slightly, becoming fevered; almost frantic, and I knew... I just knew he was almost there, too.

That coupled with the sounds and a single slow, too dry pull along my own length and I was blinking around stars. It was hard, so very hard to keep my breathing even, my body still, but I somehow managed. And I thought once again, there's a place for me in hell. Reserved just for D. Winchester. And I totally deserved it. 

But that didn't mean I could stop. I never had a chance against fighting this. The battle was lost long before I ever realized it was even happening. A smile flitted across my lips as Sam whispered, 'Oh my god...' into the dark on the wings of a sigh, and I bit back my usual retort.

Today I pinned my younger brother to his bed. I say younger because I haven't been able to call him little in many years now... 

Friggin' giant.

But anyways, I pinned him to his bed and an hour later he got off, in that very same bed... like he just couldn't help himself. And if I could, I'd relive this moment forever... Every single day. Yeah, I'd do it all over again.


	8. Always Been Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to preface this with I have no idea where the fuck it came from. I'm choosing to blame it on a serious lack of sleep and way too much caffeine. But I promised that I'd sit down and write without worrying and fretting over stuff and just seeing where it goes. 
> 
> So what I'm saying is that I'm sorry, I'm not sorry.
> 
> Once again any and all errors are mine. I'll deal with them in time.
> 
> And if you like it, or hate it, or feel anything about it... let me know.
> 
> Reviews are my happy place.
> 
> Now... On with the fic...

Dean is still twenty nine when I realize he’s up to something.

My whole life I’ve watched Dean. I know all of his moods and idiosyncrasies by heart. 

And one of those is how he gets when he’s silently crowing. When he is winning something and it doesn’t really matter to him that no one else knows. There’s this attitude he gets… this smug air about him. His grin never leaves and the jokes never stop. It’s actually quite easy to tell. Dean has never really been good at hiding anything like that from me, despite what he may think. 

Today, that air is wound so tightly around him, that I’m not certain it isn’t permanent. 

I should probably be worried. Because whenever he’s up to something it usually involves one of two things, some chick he’s trying to score with, or me. But there was no prank war happening. And he wasn’t being a complete dick. So I was sort of at a loss. The upshot is that he’s so happy I’m not sure I have any real problem with it. It’s not often that I see him smile so much in such a short amount of time. I miss the real beaming glowing smiles he used to wear when we were younger, before time and experience jaded us both. 

He’s so fucking attractive, and everyone in the world knows it... but this, here and now? When his eyes crinkle at the corners and his laughter rings in the car above the wind… I was the only one who got to see it. All day, that’s all my eyes have beheld. Something inside my chest is filled to the brim, warm and fuzzy… but I couldn’t really let it show too much. The prick would just find a way to turn it into a girl insult. 

He was touching me even more than the new ‘usual’ called for. Twice he’d rested a hand on my thigh, before we’d even finished breakfast. Nothing too obtrusive, just a pat while he called me Samantha, and then as leverage to stand. Though, why he needed my thigh for that, I’ll never know. And if he didn’t quit then he was going to notice the hard on I was sporting, baggy jeans can only hide so much. 

He wanted a day off. Which wasn’t unheard of, but it was rare that he wanted to take a day with me… to just fuck around and shoot the shit. He’d waved away my attempt to pitch a case, saying it wasn’t deadly and that it’d keep for another twenty four hours. So we went out, bought some clothes because most of my jeans were worn to the stitches and his favorite Kansas tee got slashed a month back. We ate lunch, went to a movie, and then went to play some darts at the bar two blocks over from the motel. 

And that was where the real trouble started. 

Three times, he distracted my throws. Once with a hand on the small of my back, fingers curling just under the hem of my tee shirt. The dart went wide and hit the triple fifteen instead of the bull. Ten minutes later, he clapped a soft hand onto the back of my neck and his low thick voice sounded in my ear. Asking me what I thought about the redhead over by the cigarette machine… that he bet she was a firecracker in the sack... that redheads always were. His lips brushed the shell of my ear over and over and his breath fanned across my cheek in waves. I couldn’t have stopped the full body shiver if it was the hottest day of the year… in the fucking Sahara. 

The dart hit the wall three feet above the board. 

He just laughed and told me I probably needed glasses, and ‘Hey wouldn’t that just complete the whole Sammy nerd ensemble?’

I grunted instead of replying and ducked my head to hide the flush stinging my cheeks. It took two full beers before I could calm down.

The third time, he was telling me about a blowjob he’d gotten a few months back. This was nothing new. Dean liked to brag about his conquests, and I’ve long since given up on hoping he’d quit regaling me with them. 

“That mouth, though… I swear to god it was just made for sucking dick. All pretty and slick and puffy and pink around me… softest I’ve ever had, too. I mean, she really knew her way around; knew when to use just a little bit of teeth, how hard to suck and when to let up. Really blew my mind when I lifted her skirt and found a cock… I mean, I’ve heard of people like that, but I’d never met one before, you know?” 

The dart fell to the floor.

So did my beer…

…And my jaw.

“What the fuck?” 

He laughed and signaled to the waitress for another beer, only breaking eye contact for a split second.

“I know, right? I had the exact same reaction. You remember her, the one from the Electric Cowboy in Kennesaw? She looked like she was all ‘woman’ to me. I was totally fooled.”

I choked on my own breath. He took the half a step forward to slap my back while he laughed some more.

“Man, you’re gonna kill yourself if you don’t figure out a way to breathe right. I thought everyone on the planet knew how to do that.”

I blinked at him in shock before I stumbled slightly, and then bent to retrieve my fallen beer bottle. It had been half empty, but still. What a waste. 

“You telling me you fucked a dude?”

He got this weird look in his eyes, and I couldn’t really read it… which didn’t make any sense. I thought I knew every single look Dean had ever given. But apparently I was wrong.

“Nah. She was only part dude, by the way... The tits were real. She was born with some condition, and both sets of parts. The doctors removed the wrong ones when she was a baby… Her parents really wanted a boy. For the record, no, I didn’t fuck her. I did let her finish the job though.”

I grabbed the fresh bottle our server brought over, held it so tightly that my knuckles turned white before taking a sip.

“So you’re telling me you ‘let’ a she-male suck you off, like what? Like you were doing her some kind of favor? What the fuck, Dean?”

The whole thing really pissed me off, on several levels. It was hard to pick what to focus on, which level to start with. 

“Oh please, I’m not that much of an asshole. I helped her finish too. Let it never be said that Dean Winchester can’t lay it down. I’ve never left a woman unsatisfied, and that includes her. And fuck you, by the way. I’m not some kind of crazy homophobic dickwad. And I’d never leave anyone I got revved up high and dry… That’s just fucking rude. Plus, it’s not her fault she has a dick. If anyone’s to blame, it’s her parents.”

I was left momentarily speechless once again.

Dean helped her finish. 

What did that even mean? 

Did he touch it? 

Palm her slow and steady until she came too? Hands warm and gentle and callused but still so fucking soft… Or maybe he sucked her off, on his knees, hands holding the skirt up while those perfect lips stretched tight around… fuck.

I set my bottle down on the table after chugging half of it in one long pull. Then, I took a breath and turned my back to him, calling a single word over my shoulder. 

“Bathroom.”

It was thankfully empty, and even better, it had two stalls. I slipped into the closest one and fumbled my jeans open and halfway down my thighs with trembling fingers. I was so hard it literally bordered on painful.

The moment I curled my spit slicked fingers around my cock was so sweet that I had to moan. But I promised it’d be the last one I loosed in here. It was bad enough that I was doing this here. I couldn’t wait though… Not with that voice still on repeat in my head. Not with the image of it in my brain. I did remember her, one of the few who bothered to talk to me while Dean was trying to pick them up. 

If he wasn’t lying… if he’d had his hand on a dick… oh, god…

What if he liked it?

I know what those hands feel like. It wasn’t hard to imagine how they’d feel, how he’d feel… pressed up against my back one palm flat on the naked dip of muscle at my hip… the other curled over the one I had wrapped around the thick of me. Guiding, pulling… stroking. It wasn’t hard to imagine him whispering obscene filth into my ear, and rocking against me with every other word… his tongue curling around the shell of my ear. And fuck, but I was so fucking close. 

“Sammy?”

It took everything I had, every scrap of willpower I’d ever possessed, to keep from coming all over myself right then. I cleared my throat, and hoped to every god ever named that he couldn’t hear anything weird in my voice.

“Jesus, Dean… A little privacy would be nice.”

I heard a click, and then the soft thud-thud-thud of his boots on old scuffed tiles until they appeared underneath the wall of the stall and did an about face. There was an ominous creak and the scratch of jean and leather against metal as he leaned against the stall, settling in. I bit my lip to stifle a groan and gently squeezed myself to relieve a little pressure. 

The fucking prick was just gonna stand out there and wait? 

What the hell was I supposed to do? I couldn’t get it to go down, and I couldn’t very well finish now. Fuck this noise, and fuck Dean.

…… Okay, so maybe that last thought wasn’t very helpful. 

And then Dean did something truly fucked up, even for him.

He started speaking. 

Voice all rough and thick... Like the crunch of gravel under tires. 

“She still sounded like a girl, you know… still made those sexy little gasps and sighs. Still moaned high and pretty for me, and her skin was just so soft. And when I palmed her that first time, she begged me… fucking begged me to keep going, to let her come. How could I say no to that? It wasn’t that bad either… I thought it should be weird. Someone else’s dick under my palm...so thick and full… I swear I could feel her heartbeat through it. And the way her eyes fluttered shut around that first long pull was so fucking sweet that I had to do it again. I couldn’t stop…”

I had to lift my left hand up and curl it around the top of the stall, to keep balance. I was suddenly dizzy, and my other hand was moving, slow and steady, I couldn’t help it. His voice was like a string pulling my fingers up and down, twisting them around the tip and it was almost perfect. My lips were going to start bleeding; I was biting them so hard. What the fuck was he doing? I didn’t even know if I was awake. If this was a fantasy I’d cooked up in my fucked up head. But my lips hurt, and my heart was pounding and I was so turned on there was no way this wasn’t real. 

And he was still talking. 

“I had her wrap her legs around me, pinned her to the wall, and had both of our cocks in my hand… slipping and sliding together in a way that I never thought could feel so goddamned awesome. Her thin, fucking delicate arms were wrapped around my shoulders and her pretty lips were making that perfect little circle like she was still sucking me off, moaning over and over again… sucking on her tits like they were the last beer on earth. Yeah…so fucking good, Sammy... So good...”

I wasn’t holding back anymore. It was too much… his voice, those words, his moans. I could hear the telltale wet slap of skin on skin that proved I wasn’t the only one getting off on this. 

“Dean… Dean, I…”

My throat felt raw, from all the noise I’d been making. And it sounded low and desperate and foreign in my own ears. I needed just a little more, but I couldn’t ask… that would be too far… and I was so close. Just a little push… 

But he seemed to get it, because he was talking around his moans again.

“She… fuck… she shook like a goddamned earthquake when she shot. Came all over my, oh god, my shirt… and my hand. It was hot and slick and it made everything feel so much better, intense. I busted so hard I was seeing fucking stars… I swear. Fuck, Sammy… Gonna come… gonna be so good. Just like…” 

I lost it… watched in awe as spurt after spurt erupted and my legs shook with the shocks and stutters of pleasure skipping down my spine. I might’ve said something. It could’ve been anything; it could’ve been Dean’s name. And I couldn’t give a fuck. 

I sagged against the side of the stall and released my death grip on the top to grab some toilet paper while I caught my breath. I heard the water running while I cleaned up and flushed. 

It only took a moment to straighten up my clothes, but I was stalling. I didn’t know what was gonna happen when I opened the door. I still had no idea what the fuck that even was. What the fuck am I supposed to say to any of it anyway?

‘Sorry I’m so fucked up, but thanks for getting me off...’

Somehow I didn’t think that’d go over very well.

When I did finally grow enough balls to step out, he was still leaning against the stall, and stayed there while I washed my hands, but he didn’t speak until after I’d grabbed some paper towels and turned to face him.

The jerk was grinning from ear to ear.

“How about a game of pool? Loser buys the beer…” 

And that was just so Dean, that I couldn’t help the laugh it tore from me. 

We played until we were stone cold drunk and had to stumble all the way back to the room.

I don’t remember much of it, but I do remember him tucking me in. I mumbled a ‘thanks’ under my breath while I burrowed into the sheets, and the blurry version of Dean just smiled, his voice soft, but serious.

“I’ll always take care of you, baby boy.”

Of course he would, I thought. He’s mine… always has been, and no one is ever gonna take him from me.

There was laughter and the bed shifted, but I was already down for the count.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I didn't write it in, because I didn't want to. But Dean isn't going to remember and Sammy doesn't realize it but that last thought he had about Dean was actually spoken aloud. Hence the laughter.
> 
> And now that I've finally finished and posted, I'm going to get ready for a fourteen hour school day after an hours worth of a nap.
> 
> Thank you and good night.


	9. Almost Doesn't Count

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my little duckies... I'm so very sorry for the wait! 
> 
> To all of you who have reviewed, thank you so much!
> 
> I do hope this chapter might make up for my long absence?
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> As always, reviews feed the muses, so don't let them starve!

Sam hasn't had a drink with me in a week.

It’s been a little over that since that night at the bar… And I’m going fucking crazy. 

We’ve put over seven hundred miles between us and that filthy bathroom, but it’s always replaying in the back of my mind. 

After all... It was another ‘almost’ moment. 

Well, it was a helluva lot longer than a moment… sure. But it wasn’t what I needed. It wasn’t far enough… 

It wasn’t a green light. 

I’m still touching him. More now than ever before. But it’s due purely to compulsion now, the plan isn’t any part of it anymore. I’m the one who’s grown addicted to his skin against my fingertips. For his part, he’s still not complaining. He hasn’t said anything about what happened in that bathroom... I don’t say anything about it either. It’s been too long to say anything now anyway. 

I don’t remember who won the game of pool that night. 

I don’t remember getting back to the hotel. 

I don’t remember going to sleep. 

But I do remember the way my pulse jumped and my shaft twitched as he moaned and grabbed the top of the stall for balance. 

I do remember they way his voice caught around my name. 

I remember the way it echoed off the walls, and how good it felt to hear it laced with that needy half-whine while my hand fisted my cock. 

I can practically fucking draw the way his eyes glittered, and how puffed and raw his lips were from biting them, when he finally looked at me afterwards. 

I’m half hard all the friggin’ time and I’m jacking off so much that it's starting to chafe. 

I got him revved up, and took care of him. It’s what I do. I said as much that night. He might not even care. 

Hell, he might not even remember. 

And that’s what’s driving me up one wall and down another. 

I rubbed my eyes for the tenth time in five minutes. Sammy was napping in the passenger seat and it was dark outside, but not too late. I noticed a cheap motel and pulled in. Driving for almost twenty hours straight can really take a lot out of you. I parked and left the engine running while I paid for the room. It was a one floor kinda place, and all the rooms were around back. So I got back in, and drove around until I found number 17 before parking baby for the night. It was only another minute or two before I had pulled our gear out and tossed it inside. 

But I spent at least ten minutes staring at the passenger side, just watching his chest rise and fall. 

And I call Sammy a girl. 

When I opened his door, he didn’t wake up right away and jump like I thought he would. Must’ve been exhausted. 

I reached for him, but instead of shaking him by the shoulder like I’d planned, my hand moved into his hair… Wove and threaded into the silky stands with an ease that I didn’t understand. My fingertips gently curling around his crown. Stupid fucking hands. They have minds of their own. Still, he didn’t wake up right away. He sighed and his eyes fluttered but didn’t open. And then, he tilted into my touch, and my heart kick-thuded against my ribs. 

I was frozen. 

For a few seconds, maybe longer. But all too soon he opened his eyes and I naturally pulled away. The moment was over. 

“Time to get you into bed, Sammy.” 

He hmmed under his breath while I turned and walked into the room, his footsteps sounding behind me just after the click of baby’s door sliding shut. As soon as we were inside I popped a beer and turned on the tv and he simply face planted into the bed closest to me. I couldn’t help my smile as I set the bottle down on the table, already half empty. 

“C'mon Sammy… you can’t sleep like that.” 

He made some sort of grunt but didn’t move, so I went to the end of his bed, crouched down and undid the laces of his boots. I got his left one off pretty quick, and he let out a happy little sound. Not quite a sigh, but throaty… almost edging on a moan. 

I licked my lips and ducked my head. 

His second boot fell as easily as the first and again that happy not-sigh reached my ears. Finally, I pulled off his socks and stood. Of course, the ass hadn’t moved an inch. 

“Dude. Are you seriously gonna try and sleep in jeans?” 

With a gesture that blatantly read ‘fuck off’ all over it, he rolled into his back and undid the button but then let his hands drop to the mattress. I shook my head and sighed, bent one knee onto the bed, leaned over him, and reached for his fly. It was undone in one swift move, then it was nothing to grab his jeans at the ankles and pull. I moved quickly because the temptation was too high. If I touched any longer, the touches would turn far less innocent. 

But it didn’t seem to matter. 

I guess I was meant to be tormented either way. 

His legs bounced back down onto the bed and my eyes immediately fell upon the bulge standing between his legs. 

He was hard… 

He was rock-fucking-hard. 

I had to work to swallow the lump in my throat, what with my mouth being so dry and all. 

“You uh, you wanna grab a shower before lights out?” 

His only response was to throw his left arm over his eyes and grunt once more. I felt like a moron. One leg on the bed, jaw slack and staring at Sam’s hard-on like it was a T-bone steak. 

“You want some privacy then? I can find a bar or-or something…” 

The stupid giant still didn’t respond and it was starting to piss me off… I went to tell him so when his right hand lifted and he lazily cupped it around his boxer clad shaft and squeezed once. Oh god. 

“I’m gonna go…” 

I moved away from the bed and clicked the light off before making to leave. 

“Tell me about that girl again?” 

My whole body froze. 

I think my heart even stopped for a second or two. 

He hadn’t spoken above a whisper, but I heard him clear as day. His voice was rough and heavy, thick with sleep and something else. My hand was already on the doorknob, I didn’t know what to do. 

“What girl?” 

I turned back to face him just as his hand squeezed again, slowly… And I heard a tiny hitch in his breath. 

“You know which one… Don’t play dumb. I wanna hear it again. What did she look like? I can’t remember…” 

Truth be told, I couldn’t really remember either… But that wouldn’t really matter. I could make that up as I went. 

If I went. 

Who the fuck was I kidding though? 

“Brunette, C cups… hazel eyes and legs that wouldn’t quit. The way she looked up at me while she sucked me off was amazing. And her mouth. Fuck, that mouth… soft and plump and pink. Best head I’ve had in a long time. That enough for you Sam?” 

My hand fell away from the doorknob as he slid his hand into his boxers and his back bowed off the bed a little. 

“N-no… ah. It’s not. More? Tell me the rest, Dean?” 

He still had his left arm over his eyes but I could see his Adams Apple bobbing as he worked to swallow a moan. And I knew what he wanted. So I kicked off my boots, tossed my jacket on the floor and crawled into the second bed. 

“You wanna hear more? You wanna hear about her cock, Sam? About how hard she was? How soft the skin of it felt in my palm? It was so sweet the way she moaned for me when I got a decent rhythm going… when she was fucking my hand and sucking on my neck and panting in my ear… you should’ve seen her…” 

My pants came off easily enough, and I sat in my tee shirt and boxers on the edge of the bed and watched as he picked up speed. Watched him pant and sigh and fucking groan while I talked. My own hand slid between my legs and I hissed in pleasure as I wrapped my fingers around my own length. Fuck, but it was good. Sammy wasn’t gonna have all the fun, after all. 

“Yeah… y-yeah… More. What happened next?” 

He was slowly fucking his hand now. Hips rising into his fist and I was totally captivated. 

“She… fuck… She kept talking about how she wished she had a pussy. How wet she’d be for me. How hard she’d ride me. But I didn’t… nnn… I didn’t care. She had a pretty cock, and it felt so good in my hand. When I told her so, she nearly shot right then. I could feel it.” 

I slid my boxers down so I had more room to work, but I refused to take my eyes off of the other bed or my hand off my dick, so it was more difficult than I’d expected. 

Sammy didn’t appreciate the pause. 

“Dammit Dean… Don’t stop! I need it. I need it so bad…” 

I let out a moan of my own and stroked myself a little faster, gripped a little tighter. 

“That’s exactly how she sounded… Begged me just like that. Y-yeah…oh. You ever had a cock in your mouth Sam? I can honestly say that I never thought I would… But hers was so pretty, that when she asked, I couldn’t help but drop to my knees. I wasn’t prepared for the weight of it on my tongue, you know? F-fuck… It was so different. But it was exciting the way she tried to push into my mouth. And she trembled every time I puckered my lips around the tip of it. And when I swirled my tongue around her she yanked me off by my hair. Oh... S-so hot. That’s when I pinned her against the stall… wraped her legs around my waist and took us both in my hand… sucked one of her nipples between my lips…” 

He was whining now. 

Panting and moaning and shaking. 

His head rising back and forth. 

He was so close. 

Just a little more and we’d both be there… 

“When we came though… that was the best part… She shook like a fucking earth quake and shot all over me. Felt so good I busted almost instantly. Yeah… Yeah… I’m gonna do it Sam… I’m gonna… g-gonna… ” 

I watched him bend nearly in half and come right before my own vision swam and I was swept away. I wish I could've watched it all, but he never took his damn boxers off. Still, it was probably the most thrilling orgasm I'd had to date. I only wished it could've lasted a little while longer. 

When I could finally breathe again, I pulled off my shirt and used it to clean myself up, tugged my boxers up, and flopped down on the bed on my back. 

So Sammy did remember... 

And he liked it. 

Of course that didn't prove anything other than the fact that he clearly had a thing for dick. 

Which is halfway to where I am. 

He's almost there. 

Almost to the line. 

He almost crossed it tonight... 

But I sighed as I closed my eyes and listened to him get up and move into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. 

I shook my head once and crawled into bed, pulled the covers up over me, and sighed up at the ceiling after settling onto my back. 

"Almost doesn't count..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it! 
> 
> I'll try to update again soon!
> 
> TTFN ^.^


	10. Questions I Can't Answer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, my little duckies... I hope you like the newest installment. I have tried my best to update sooner this time.
> 
> As always... like it? Love it? Hate it? Let me know!
> 
> Enough chit chat.
> 
> On with the story!

It's been two days since Dean and I jacked off in the motel room... 

And I still don't know what to do. I can't drink with him anymore, because I'll probably do something stupid. 

I mean, it's not like he's acting any differently, but still. 

He's been watching me a little bit more. It's almost like he never stops now. Every time I go to look at him for one reason or another, I find his eyes are already on me. It's unsettling, and yet quite fulfilling all at once. 

I kept waiting for the questions to start... Because surely there would be questions, right? 

Wrong. 

I should have known. 

This was Dean, after all. He wasn't big on the whole sharing thing in general, so it's not like he'd press me on something like this unless it affected the job. Which it hasn't. We've already salted and burned two ghosts today, and he's looking pretty pleased with himself. 

We stopped at a tiny diner on Route 66 somewhere in New Mexico, and he was currently flirting with our waitress. 

Typical. 

I rolled my eyes as I buried myself in the laptop... Looking for the next hunt already. 

Anything to distract myself from him. 

Too bad that's never worked. 

I felt his warmth against my side and nearly jumped a mile high. He'd been sitting across from me, but had moved over to sit on my side of the booth without any warning. I didn't turn to look at him, and before I could even think of asking him what he was doing, he was talking lowly into my ear. 

"Blonde, Nine o'clock." 

I frowned and glanced up to the bar area, but the only blonde I saw was a guy roughly my age. I furrowed my brow and turned to face him, confusion written all over me. 

"Dude, what?" 

He smiled and lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. 

"What? He not hot enough for you Sammy? I'm trying to be supportive here..." 

My eyes widened as my face got hot. The heat ran all the way down to the top of my chest as I tried to ask him what the fuck he was talking about... I couldn't really get much out, but he seemed to understand. 

"You don't have to look so friggin' surprised... I'm not an idiot you know? You could've told me you swung for both teams, dude. It's really not that big a deal." 

I clenched my hands into fists as my face got even hotter. When I spoke, I made sure to keep my voice low and even. 

"Who says I'm into guys, Dean?" 

He chuckled and took a swig of his coke before answering. 

"It's pretty obvious you're at least a little into the idea. What with what's been going on. I figured I'd try and show my support." 

How does one explain that it's not all guys that interest you? There's only ever been one that I've really wanted. Can't really say that out loud though. So I swallowed and turned my eyes back to the screen, 

"He's not my type... and honestly, I'd rather not have this conversation here." 

I felt him move his arm across the back of the booth, behind my shoulders as he leaned a little closer and settled deeper into the cushions. 

"Tell me you don't want to bend him over and pound him into that counter until he's screaming your name..." 

His voice, all low and husky, sent shivers all the way to my toes. I closed my eyes and bit my bottom lip to surpress a moan. His chest was pressed against my shoulder and his breath tickled my ear. I couldn't help imagining Dean in the blondes place... Oh god. 

I shifted my right leg as blood started flowing to unwanted regions. 

"I bet he'd look really pretty on his knees for you... He's got nice eyes too. I bet they'd look real sweet staring up at you while opens his mouth to suck you down. Swallow you whole..." 

He fucking growled a little, growled. Not loud or anything. It was so soft I don't think anyone else could hear it, but fuck if it didn't drive me up the goddamned wall. 

"Stop... Just, Jesus... Dean what are you..." 

"I bet he's got a nice cock, Sammy. I bet it'd feel really good in your hand. I bet he'd beg you for it. Can't you just picture it? Can't you just see him panting and moaning and begging you to let him come?" 

I was trapped. 

I was trapped and I was hard... and fuck but if Dean didn't know it, too. 

I could hear the smirk in his voice. 

"Wouldn't it feel so good to fuck his mouth?" 

His left hand appeared on my left knee, his thumb burning circles through my jeans and I was shaking. It was almost too much. 

And we were in public for fuck's sake. 

"Or maybe you want him to fuck you, Sammy? Maybe you'd want him to slam you up against the stall in the bathroom back there and slide inside of you so deep that you'll never forget what it feels like? Is that it? Do you want him to fuck you long and slow? Or hard and fast? I bet it'd be so good... Don't you think he'd..." 

I couldn't take it anymore. I turned and lifted a hand, pressing it tightly to his lips. I had to stop him. I fucking had to. Because if I didn't, I'd end up coming like a fucking schoolboy in my jeans without so much as a squeeze to my dick, and that was not happening. Certainly not in the middle of a half full diner. 

But his lips were still moving slightly under my fingers, and the skin of them felt so good. His eyes were half lidded and his cheeks were flushed, making his freckles stand out on his face. My heart was fucking jack hammering against my ribs and I couldn't catch my breath. 

"Cut it out. What is wrong with you?" 

I pulled my hand away as I felt him smile. 

"Just proving my point, Sam. You're hard... That's all the proof I need. So, why are you denying it?" 

I turned my gaze back to the computer screen. 

"Not here, Dean. This isn't the place." 

I felt him shrug against my side before he moved away. Before I could blink, he was back on the other side of the booth. 

Moments later, our dinner arrived, but my head was still spinning. It took the whole time we ate before I could finally will my erection away. 

The bastard was smiling like a moron the entire time. 

I'm not sure how he managed it while he shoved food in his face, but he did. 

We were back on the road pretty quickly after that, and I refused to talk to him. He seemed to be pretty okay with that, and just turned up the music while he drove. 

When we stopped for the night, I was already exhausted. The motel Dean found had a little bar around back so we were at the bar less than ten minutes after check in. 

Dean was off playing pool, hustling just enough to pay for our drinks. Couldn't afford to pull a real run on the place that we were staying for the night... we learned that early on in life. I was on my second beer when another guy came up and sat down next to me. 

I didn't think anything of it at first, when he struck up a conversation. 

It happens sometimes, guys will just talk at a bar. No big deal. He asked something about the game I was pretending to watch, and I turned to look at him while I replied. 

He was probably around Dean's age, but that isn't what caught my attention. He was easily the most attractive guy in the place, aside from Dean himself. His eyes were almost as green, and his hair was inky black. He was smiling at me in an endearing way, as I relayed the score. His lips were thin, but his bottom one puffed out a little bit as he wet them. 

My eyes drifted to Dean, who was pretending not to watch us from the other side of the bar until the guy he was playing against took his shot. 

"Your brother plays a mean game you know..." 

My face immediately sank into a frown. 

Fucking Dean. 

"Yeah, I know. He's kind of an asshat too. Did he send you over here?" 

The guy, who had by then introduced himself as Alex, shrugged and smiled again. 

"Yeah, he said you might want some company. I thought you looked like a slice of heaven, so I figured why not see if you might?" 

I laughed nervously and shook my head a bit, biting my bottom lip. My free hand drifted up to the back of my neck while I cleared my throat and tried to smile. 

"I'm sorry man, but I think he gave you the wrong idea... I'm not really into that sort of thing." 

I downed my beer, then excused myself and headed back to our room. Alex had said it was a shame but didn't complain. 

When Dean stumbled in two hours later, he was wrecked. Which isn't really unusual for him persay. It's more unusual that he was this wrecked and back so soon. Usually, he just found a warm body somewhere and did his thing until he sobered up enough to come back. 

I was in my own bed, researching and nursing another beer. And by researching, I mean surfing porn. Thank every god I've ever heard of that I hadn't started anything yet. 

He would never have let me live it down. 

As it was, he could barely get to the bathroom without falling on his face, so I figured it was alright. 

I just exited the tab then cleared the history before closing the laptop, and set it aside. 

When he stumbled out and face planted onto his bed, I laughed. He groaned and blindly threw a pillow at me. It missed by a mile, and I couldn’t help but laugh harder. 

"Shut it, Sam. Don't kill my buzz." 

I arched a challenging brow. 

"Oh, you mean like you killed mine earlier? What is up with you today? First that guy at the diner, and then the one here... Why are you trying to set me up with dudes?" 

I watched as he struggled to kick off his boots before flipping over onto his back. 

"You're clearly in need of a little release, okay? You haven't scored in forever... and I figured maybe it was because you were too worried about what I might think if you wanted to score with a guy. This is what I get for trying to be the most awesome big brother on the planet. Christ." 

I scrubbed a frustrated hand through my hair and sighed. 

"Thanks man, I get it. You don't care if I wanna fuck a guy. Awesome. But if I wanted to, I could find my own. I don't really need the help..." 

He lifted a hand, and waved away my words. 

"You want to. It's obvious. But you won't... and that's a real mystery to me. That Alex guy was hot, and he was into it... but you just brushed him off. He wasn't an idiot, and he was funny... and I know you thought he was hot, because you got all nervous. So... what's the deal?" 

I frowned and stared at him for a minute. Because something about this whole thing was off. Very off. Sure he's meddled in my love life for as long as I've had one, but he's never pushed this hard. Not to the point of him trying to get answers from me. Not to the point of investing so much time and thought into it. Not like this. He turned his head to face me and I stared into his eyes, silent for a minute longer. Simply trying to read him. 

When I still hadn't answered, he fidgeted a little bit. And then he licked his lips. 

"I know you get off on it... I've seen it. Are you just scared?" 

I arched a brow and shook my head. There was no way to answer him completely, but there was no reason to lie, either. 

"So if you're not scared and it's something that you want... why don't you just go for it?" 

And that was just so very Dean. If you want it, and you can get it, take it. He does as he likes so long as it doesn't really hurt people. He's always been a live in the now kinda guy. I've known that my whole life. It was such an amusing thought that I chuckled a little. I couldn't help it. 

It's funny. 

"It's not that simple. I don't want just any random guy. You know how I am, Dean... You've always known. I've never been like that with women. What makes you think I'd ever be like that when it comes to men?" 

His eyes bored into mine this time. 

Searching. 

I don’t know what he's looking for, but I'm hoping he doesn't see what it is that I really mean. 

He's funny that way sometimes. There are times when he can't figure me out at all, even when I'm speaking plainly... but there are others. Other times when I don't have to say anything at all, and somehow... he just knows. 

His eyes widened suddenly... and Jesus, he was so fucking beautiful. Face still flushed from drink and lips parted ever so slightly. 

And then he spoke. 

"Who is it?" 

I nearly choked on my own breath... but I somehow managed to shrug instead. 

"It doesn't matter... It's not going to happen. Let it go, Dean." 

He tried to sit up, but he couldn't quite manage, so he flopped back down and stared at me again. 

"There isn't a man or woman on the whole planet who doesn't find you easy on the eyes, Sam. You could fucking try, you know!" 

I finished my beer and stood to set the empty down, before making my way over to the mini fridge to grab another. I popped it with my back still to him, and took a long swig. 

"There are some people in life that you just aren't meant to be with, Dean. You know that." 

I heard some rustling and turned just in time to watch Dean get to his feet. 

Before I knew what was happening, the beer went flying and my back hit the floor. Dean was heavy and panting on top of me. His eyes were focused and fierce... and his breath smelled of whiskey. He really was fucked up. I am honestly not even sure how he managed to have this conversation in the first place. As it is, I'm not sure he'll remember much of it tomorrow anyway. 

"Who the fuck is it, Sammy?!" 

I was dumbfounded, and shocked into silence for a second. 

He was still panting, and his body was warm, and he was flush against me from our sternums to the sides of our calves. 

"Dean... it doesn't matter, okay? Just let it go..." 

He slammed his fist on the floor next to my head. 

"You're in love with some guy, and it doesn't matter? I'm supposed to just let it go? Have you even fucking met me?! I've only ever wanted one thing in this fucked up life Sam... I've only ever wanted one goddamned thing... And that's for you to be happy. That's pretty much it. So who the fuck can make you happy baby boy?" 

He'd started pretty strong, his voice too loud and too close to my ears, but by the time he finished... it was barely a whisper. It was weird... hearing that tone in his voice. I don't know that I've ever heard it sound quite like that ever before. It sounded like he was defeated, but still pleading just the same. I did the only thing I could think to do... I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him even closer. 

"I'm happy Dean... I swear. I'm happy." 

And right at that moment, it wasn't even a lie. 

I held him for a few minutes before the sound of light snoring drifted into the air, and I laughed. 

It was a struggle, maneuvering until I could stand and get him dressed down and into his own bed... but I managed. 

And I stood over him for a few minutes afterwards, just watching him rest... before I gently carded my fingers through the hair on the top of his head. 

I took a deep breath and whispered the words that I couldn't say earlier. 

"The answer is you. It's always been you..." 

I cleaned up, kicked off my jeans and fell asleep with a bittersweet smile on my lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Not as steamy this time... because the love had to take over in this chapter. But there will be plenty of both to come. Pun fully intended. ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	11. Hello Darkness My Old Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo late with this chapter. I do apologize. Sincerely.
> 
> This is for all those who have reviewed, and waited patiently. 
> 
> All errors are mine. The characters, sadly, are not. 
> 
> Now my duckies...
> 
> On with the story!

It's been two days since Sam told me he's in love with a guy...

_And it's killing me._

I don't know what to do, because there doesn't seem to be anything I _can_ do. And that's the real crux of it all.

He won't tell me who it is, and he won't tell the guy either. Says there's no point. But that is so much bullshit, that the bull it came from is practically standing behind him when he says it. Then he tells me he won't talk about it anymore, and to find a new hobby.

He said all of that about an hour ago, but it doesn't really matter. I can't just let it go. Not now that I know he's in love.

Not a friggin' chance.

We're not kids anymore. We don't catch puppy love. Haven't for years. So when he says he's fallen in love, I believe him. It's real... And it hurts like hell. Literally.

Just the thought of it... It clawed at me. It tore through my mind, and battered and bashed my brain, gnawed at me until it was all I could think about, or focus on.

It had to be someone we knew. Most likely, it was someone in the business. We didn't stick around in one spot long enough for him to fall in love.

That takes time.

And for Sammy, it takes _real_ time.

So it had to be someone we work with...

But who?

The pool wasn't exactly deep... the list was absurdly, ridiculously short. But I wouldn't know for sure unless I saw him around them. Sam in love... it's something I've seen before. So I'd know it ten miles out, if I saw it again.

It definitely wasn't Ash. He wasn't attractive no matter how you looked at it. He was smart though... and Sammy loves that. Still, I don't think it's him.

Maybe Kevin?

The kid is whip smart and not bad looking if I'm being completely upfront... but I don't think it's him either. He's young. I just don't think he's Sammy's type.

Definitely not Garth. No explanation necessary there.

Same with Bobby. Just... _gross_.

That left only one name I can think of, and it did explain his hesitation. If I'm right, that would be one hell of an eye to try and catch. Cas isn't really the brightest bulb with human matters, especially when it comes to romance and sex... and he doesn't swing for the same team as far as I can tell. Sammy's definitely got his work cut out for him. Maybe he just figures it's a hurdle set ten feet too high, so he won't even try to jump it. 

Cas may have the emotional depth of a spoon, but he'd at least understand. Hell he'd even think it over. I don't know what he'd say, but I highly doubt he'd turn Sam down outright. I've said it before and I'll say it again, there isn't a person on earth who can't see how attractive that nerd is. Castiel isn't any different. 

I could pray later, and try and get a feel for the situation. See how Sammy acts around him. But I'll need an excuse. He doesn't just pop in for any old reason these days. 

We're gonna have to hunt something big. Big enough to catch his attention, at least. That might take some time and a week or two of digging though. 

I'm not sure if I could wait that long. 

There is another option. But it may have less of a chance of happening anytime soon. 

It might be worth a shot though... Eight, even. That would be more than enough booze to get him talking, if only a little. 

He's been steering clear of serious drinking for a while now... So that's a real flaw. I sure as hell can't convince him of anything when he gets this stubborn. Figured that one out years ago. 

There's the only other thing I can think of.

Last time he talked about it was when I was wasted... Probably 'cause the dweeb didn't think I'd remember much of it. If it worked once, it might work again. 

Pretty lame as far as plans go... I know. But he's giving me nothing to work with. And the last thing I need is for him to pull a bitch fit while I'm trying to help him. He might stop talking to me for a few days if that happens... So is it worth the risk? I turned up the radio when I finally said 'fuck it' and decided to do it tonight. Figured he could sleep later anyways. 

Five hours later, we were shacked up somewhere in a dive motel in Minnesota. I dunno what town. It didn't matter anyways. There was no sign of anything worth hunting, so we drove aimlessly. I was working my way through a bottle of jack while we ate pizza and watched some crappy television. Sammy laughed at all the lame ass jokes, and I split the time between watching him and the made for TV movie he'd chosen. After a while my belly was warm, I was feeling fuzzy, and then I was laughing along too. 

We were on the bed closest to the door, our backs against the headboard, and our legs would bump together every time either one of us moved. By the time the movie ended, I was halfway through the bottle and tried to figure out how to bring it up... but it turned out I didn't need to.

"You're really putting it away tonight... You sure you don't wanna slow down?"

I laughed and took another swig, wiped my lips and smiled at him.

"What for? We got some down time... and I feel like getting wrecked. Nothing better to do in these backwoods, anyhow."

He ran a hand through his hair and laughed too.

I offered him a swig, not really thinking, and nearly jumped when his hand covered mine to pull the bottle to his lips. 

God damn, but the sonovabitch was warm... I swallowed reflexively along with him while he took a long pull. I figured he'd let go when he was done, but he just lowered the bottle between us down onto the bed, and held it there. 

I'd been touching him so much. So very much. But it was mostly me. I frowned down at our hands and realized I may be a bit more drunk than I'd planned to be. 

"Did you like it?"

I blinked up at him, trying to read from his expression exactly what it was he was asking. But it was carefully blank. I frowned again.

"Did I like what?"

The corner of his mouth lifted into a half grin and he pulled the bottle, along with my hand, back up to his mouth. Seconds later, the bottle was nestled between us once more. 

"Did you like sucking her off?"

I smiled, because I couldn't help it. My plan was working perfectly and I hadn't even done anything yet. 

"You mean did I like sucking dick..."

I trailed off and let it hang in the air for a moment. He nodded once, and I had the urge to avert my eyes from his knowing gaze. He remained silent for the moment. Either not willing, or not trusting himself to speak. I blinked as he let go of the bottle, and my hand was suddenly cold, down to the bone. I flexed my fingers around the bottle neck as I parted my lips to respond. 

"You ever tried it?"

He shook his head no, and I nodded. I'd figured as much. 

"It's different, obviously. But not in a bad way. Nothing to be scared of, Sa-"

He cut me off.

"I'm not scared, man. I just wanna know..."

I laughed and took a sip, a small one this time. Trying to buy myself a minute to figure out how to answer. I could tell this was important. But I was too drunk. Couldn't be eloquent if a poet was whispering the perfect words directly into my ear. 

_Fuck it._

"Yeah, Sammy. I did. I think you will, too."

He shrugged and looked away, but I continued on.

"You could just tell him, you know? He wouldn't turn you down without at least thinking about it..."

His eyebrow arched in question, so I took a deep breath and barreled on. What was that saying? In for a penny?

Right.

"I know he wouldn't. And if you're worried about performance or whatever, find a willing guy and practice. It isn't exactly rocket science. You've got one, so start by doing things you like done to you, and go from there. Not that he'd know much better anyway. He's not exactly a Romeo."

His expression was suddenly the picture of full blown confusion. Eyebrows climbing so high they were hidden under a fringe of chestnut locks.

"Who do you think it is, Dean?"

My throat went dry, and suddenly I couldn't say his name. My stomach twisted up in knots, and my body went cold all over. Dread welled up in a spot suspiciously close to where I knew my heart to be. That wasn't really fair though... there were worse people out there. Cas was good looking, and smart too, though he usually lacked common sense. He had a lot of good points, and he was there when it counted. I looked up and shrugged, then lifted my free hand to ruffle his annoyingly long tresses.

Cas was a fine choice.

He just wasn't _me_.

I'll have to come to terms with that eventually... just not tonight.

I had to change tactics, the subject, anything. I knew he was waiting for an answer but it was impossible. I just couldn't say the Angel's name. It's too much.

I grabbed his left hand by the wrist, instead.

"Point at me."

He very clearly had no idea what the hell I was going on about, but he did as he was told. I smiled and held his gaze as I brought his hand towards my face. 

"Eye contact is always good, but not too much or it gets creepy. Alright? You gotta start out slow, build it up. Tease a little, you know? And make sure you wet your lips first... don't forget that."

This I could handle. Sex always was my best subject.

He nodded along, and his Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed when I licked my lips. I dropped my eyes, slid them down to his index finger, and let the tip of my tongue swipe across the pad of it a few times. I looked back up when I took half of the digit between my lips and sealed them around it, swirling my tongue around the very tip just once. He sucked in a breath, and his eyes fluttered lightly. Very lightly, I dragged my teeth along his skin while I pulled back and off, but not away.

"Don't be afraid to use your hands... but focus on using your mouth more. Keep your tongue soft at first, make him work for it a little. Take your time and get comfortable..." I let the heat of my breath ghost along his damp flesh with every word I uttered, before pulling his finger all the way into my mouth and letting my tongue swirl and loop in random patterns. He moaned suddenly, and then I was captivated.

His face was flushed and his breathing was getting heavier by the minute. Lips parted, eyes wide, pupils dilated... and he was stunning. I moaned around him and he loosed one in reply.

"D-Dean... tell me about the girl..."

I moaned again and looped my tongue around him one last time before I pulled away.

It was becoming something of a routine, now. I couldn't help but imagine what he must be thinking about every time I tell it. Did he picture Cas pressed back against the stall, and himself in my place?

_No._

_Don't go there._

_It's not the time for shit like that._

Nodding to myself, I moved the bottle, still in my hand, to the nightstand. When I finally looked back at him, his fly was undone, his pants were  down passed his hips and he was already touching himself... But slowly.

Waiting.

I stood and rounded the bed on obscenely wobbly legs, he watched me and made an impatient keening sound that went straight to my cock.

"Alright, alright... I'll tell you again."

I unzipped my jeans and let them fall as they liked while I reached my right hand into my boxers. My breath caught as his hand sped up. I don't know what gave me the nerve. Maybe it was the booze. Maybe it was a way to sabotage myself. Maybe I just couldn't get enough torture. I don't know, but when I spoke... words I shouldn't have spoken slipped out.

"I'll tell you, but you gotta show me what you've learned..."

I lifted my left hand towards him, and he reached for it, pulling my index and middle fingers into his mouth. I was clumsy, my hand shaking in both fear and anticipation all at once. And as he began to demonstrate my lesson back at me, I parted my lips, took a long careful breath, and spoke. 

" _Fuck_... she was, she was so hard for me... I don't k-know, _oh_ , how it took me so long to notice. When I dropped down to my knees, I was... _yeah_... I was so ready."

Without warning, his free hand came up to secure my wrist, and I was thoroughly ensnared. His eyes opened to half mast and seared into my own. It was already almost too much. 

"Yeah, Sammy... _just like that_. Shit... It, it wasn't as thick as mine... But it was longer. _O-oh_. You wouldn't believe all the, the noises she made when I first took her in. She was begging. Telling me how good it was. Clawing at the sides of the stall, legs shaking..."

He peeled back his lips and used his teeth to lightly scrape along the length of my fingers. From knuckles to tips. 

"How, god, how good I looked with my lips around her... so fucking good, Sammy... you... unnn... she looked so pretty with her mouth wrapped around me too..."

The words kept tumbling from me, like acorns tumble from the trees in New England in the fall. I wasn't even sure about what I was saying anymore. I was too busy watching him. Too caught up in the picture he made, watching him get off on my words. Watching him suck my fingers and imagining his lips on my dick. Watching his own hand as he stroked, and pulled, and twisted _just so_. Wishing I could just climb on top of him and take us both over the edge with my hands, my lips... Anything really. 

_Everything._  

I couldn't take much more.

And then he threw his head back, probably from something I said, and his tongue, his lips, the heat of his mouth, how slick it would be against me... How easy it would be to push myself into those slack, plump, pretty lips. 

"I'm g-gonna come, oh, o-oh, _oh fuck..._ "

And it was a if that was what he was waiting for, because his back bowed, his jaw went slack around my fingers, his body jerked, and the evidence of his pleasure splashed over his chest in ribbon after ribbon. 

And I was there too... calling out his name while the waves crashed over me.

And then, I pitched forward, my legs giving out. I fell into the sheets and darkness overtook me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for clarification... Dean is well beyond wasted. The full force of the booze hits him along with the orgasm and he just goes down for the count.
> 
> Did I mention that this was a slow burn?
> 
> I did?
> 
> Good.


End file.
